


True As Steel

by Vail



Series: Giustia [3]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Action/Adventure, Bittersweet, Drabble Collection, Drama, F/M, Gen, One Word Prompt Meme, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-28
Updated: 2012-10-29
Packaged: 2017-10-31 21:05:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 8,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/348359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vail/pseuds/Vail
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are no true heroes and no glory in war – only the ones that manage to survive. 50 Prompt Challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Reborn

**14\. Burning**

Scarlet lights up the room and suddenly there is blood  _everywhere_ , the Templars have been thrown back and Jowan is running out the door to freedom while Lily screams –

Faye rushes to Irving and Greagoir's side to help the two up, but the latter brushes her away with a heavily armored hand that hurts, both outside and within. She'd always gotten along reasonably well with the Knight Commander, and now he accuses her with disappointment in his eyes.

Jowan's betrayal hurt like claws across her heart, but Greagoir's look makes her burn with shame.

**1\. Walking**

Nobody remembers to get the newly recruited Circle mage a pair of proper walking shoes. Her slippers are better suited for the smooth stone floors of the Tower than for traveling through the rough terrain of Southern Ferelden, and by the time they get to Ostagar her feet are blistered and bleeding.

Duncan immediately buys her a pair of leather boots out of sheer pity.

**16\. Breaking**

_His heart is breaking_ ,  _broken_ , proclaims the lines of Alistair's face. Every whisper of "We _trusted_  him," makes Faye think of Jowan instead of Loghain, "I could have – if I had done things differently, maybe Duncan wouldn't –" she remembers wondering what she should have done, in the course of her friendship with Jowan, to prevent him from falling to the lure of blood magic - so that the day she'd been recruited into the Grey Wardens would  _never happen_.

Every aching inch of her understands Alistair's bewildered grief and regret, and so she puts off Morrigan's verbal jabs at Alistair and lets him push the responsibility of leading to her - even though she has even  _less_ of an idea than him of what to do out in the world. She's all alone except for a Witch of the Wilds and an almost-templar Grey Warden. She's been outside of the Tower for a month and now she is one of the two people left in Ferelden with a chance of defeating the Blight.

Faye swallows hard, buries her own heart somewhere deep down, and moves forward.


	2. Embark

**4\. Wonder**

"You shall make yourself ill," Morrigan says disdainfully to the younger mage. They have been traveling together in the direction of Lothering for two days, and her opinion on Faye is not quite set – but the fact that the woman stands outside gaping at the sky in the midst of a storm does not speak well for her sanity.

"It's...beautiful," Faye whispers, wonder infused in her voice. "We heard the thunder even inside the Tower, of course, but I couldn't even imagine what all this wind and rain might feel like. Or  _lightning_! Real lightning from the  _sky..._ "

Morrigan groans and returns to her own tent with the knowledge that Faye would lose her awe for rain once she had to travel through the mud in the morning. She is, unfortunately, quite right.

**32.** **Sorrow**

The red-haired woman clad in the genteel robes of a Chantry sister smiles and names herself as "Leliana". Her Orlesian accent is soft, lilting, and pleasant to the ear. She is devoted to her faith and possibly a little more than mad, but she wants to help and it seems unwise to turn down  _anyone_  willing to assist.

It doesn't hurt that Morrigan despises her on sight. Anything that Morrigan disapproves of is good in Faye's book.

Still, amongst all the other small details – the well-kept state of her humble wooden bow, strange for one pledged to the Maker – the most distinct thing is that mantle of sorrow that seems to hang around her shoulders.

Leliana is beautiful, but Faye recognizes someone who's been broken. She'll be her friend, she decides. It's impossible to ignore the haunted look in those eyes.

 **40\. Solitary**  
In the midst of demons and abominations, Faye remembers that Anders had been placed in solitary just a week before her recruitment. His imprisonments lasted from a couple months to – the worst one of all, a year – and she had little doubt that the Templars had forgotten him, in his basement cell.

Wynne gives her a look –  _the_  look, the one that says "You are acting childish and I am going to be the wise, responsible one here," – and tells her that the important thing to do is to save Irving, who is likely up in the Harrowing Chamber. Faye finds herself struck with fierce resentment – Irving deserves to be saved just because he is First Enchanter, because Wynne wants to  _live_  and won't be able to without his word. Irving is an old man who has lived his life and placed power games above the wellbeing of his students. [She remembers, all too well, going to Irving with blind trust and thinking that he would surely sort Jowan out, convince him that escaping was a terrible idea -]

She thinks about the cold, hollow feeling that followed after Alistair struck her with a Holy Smite in practice, and tries to imagine staying like that, drained of her mana, for months on end. Huddling in the darkness behind bars as screams float above and wondering when the monsters would come for you, alone and defenseless, without any sense of how much time was passing.

"I will not leave him," she scowls, and dashes for the stairs.

**44\. Near**

They find Cullen - mind-shattered, but  _alive._

She sinks to her knees in front of him, wanting to scream; but her throat locks up and she chokes on his name. He looks at her, but his eyes catch a vision somewhere over her shoulder that has stolen her voice and face. She feels as if she is underwater, her senses warped. His words burn through the haze like acid. Faye presses herself against the magical barrier until he's so near that if they weren't separated she could probably count his eyelashes. It  _hurts._  She doesn't care.

Her friends pull her (Alistair picks her up, his armor cold against her clammy skin, and she screams at him for his trouble) away from the barrier before she wastes all her mana – or bloodies her hands by beating on the magical shield. "I'll save you from this I  _swear_ ," she whimpers, clawing wildly at the gauntleted hands around her waist. " _Uldred will die._ "

**3\. Wishes**

Leliana comes to sit with her by the fire at camp that night after they returned from the Circle Tower. "Would you like to talk?" the bard asks her after a moment of silence, her lilting voice gentle. "The man we saw today, the one who survived the Desire Demon...you knew him, yes?" Faye grimaces and nods, slowly.

 _Knew him_. Cullen had been her _friend_ , he had stayed with her the night Surana never returned from her Harrowing and he had touched her arm the last time she left Irving's office -

"I used to wish...that he might care for me," she breathed, scarcely daring to voice the words. "But I never wanted  _that_. I never wanted him to suffer..."

_"Sifting through my thoughts, using my shame against me... my ill-advised infatuation with her... a mage, of all things."_

Later, in the light of the lantern that hangs inside her tent, Faye cries. Just once, she tells herself - for the boy she had known and loved, the man who had been destroyed by a demon wearing her mask


	3. Replace

**32.** **Stupidity**

There's more to Alistair than everyone thinks.

It takes Faye a while to realize it. She feels nothing particular about him. He acts like an overgrown puppy, a child in a man's body – always joking, easily distracted, raised by winged, Anderfellian dogs.

He's also a bastard.  _King Maric's_  bastard.

Suddenly, stupidity is only a mask. She thinks of the fierce, calm expression that only shows itself when he fights, and imagines a crown of gold over its brow.

To be honest, it's not a bad look.

**45\. Natural**

She lets him slide his hand over her thigh, focusing on the warmth of sun-tanned fingers and pushing aside the lingering thoughts of men with copper curls and crooked smiles. He asks, as gently as any assassin is capable of, "My Warden, are you sure?"

" _Please_ ," she responds, leaving the rest of her request unspoken.  _Please make me forget._

Zevran smells like fresh leather and musk, and the taste of sweet brandy slants itself over her mouth. She falls back into the grass, soft and green, and pulls him down with her, closing her eyes. There is nothing about him that reminds her of  _Tower_ – not a hint of stone or parchment or even the faint pull of lyrium that exists like a perpetual fog – and right now he is everything she needs.

Faye curls her fingers into the fine blonde hairs at the back of his neck, and sinks into the kiss as naturally as breathing.

**6\. Whimsy**

It's a simple whim, but one night at camp Faye lets Leliana do what she likes with the ebony hair she usually keeps twisted up out of the way. It ends up entwined with a silk blue ribbon in a braided style that the redhead insists had been quite fashionable in Orlais before she left. It's a bit of a mess, but Faye doesn't mind. Much.

Wynne watches from the other side of the campfire with eyes lined in wrinkles and a sad smile. She can't help but think that girls their age _should_  be playing with their hair and giggling over shoes, not sleeping with daggers or staves at hand, the faint reek of darkspawn blood clinging to their skin.

**12\. Blessing**

Wynne and Leliana leave Redcliffe Chantry to deliver the silver amulets to Ser Perth, but Faye stays behind for a moment longer.

"Mother Hannah..." she starts hesitantly. "If it is not too much trouble, might I ask for your blessing before the upcoming battle?" The older woman's face immediately twists as her eyes flash to the staff on Faye's back. Her reply is polite, but edged with the slightest touch of derision.

Faye barely reels, having half-expected the discrimination against her magic, but to her surprise Alistair gently grabs her by the elbow and leads her away before the Mother can say anymore. "Alistair, what-?"

"I know you weren't a Warden long enough to get to know the others, but in the Order other Wardens are your family. I can't just stand here and listen to my sister get insulted, can I?" He smiles at her. He's tall enough to block out the sun with his head and she looks up at him with warmth swelling in her heart. It's the first time anyone... _not a mage_  has defended her.

" ...I guess I could do worse than you for a brother," she says carefully, smiling after a short pause. "Does that make me a princess?"

**17\. Belief**

"Sometimes you seem like a rational person, and then I discover that you too follow the  _Chantry,"_  sneers Morrigan. "Is this because they jailed you and force-fed you their stories until you knew nothing else?"

Faye shakes her head and lightly corrects, "I am Andrastian, but I do not entirely agree with the Chantry and their views on many things." The witch rolled her eyes.

"Regardless, that still means you blindly worship a Maker who even you admit has abandoned the worlds and the people he created! What is this purpose of your religion, except to express superiority over what you do not value or what you fear?"

"Belief is a power of its own, Morrigan," Faye replied softly. "I believe in the words of Andraste, and I find that my belief encourages me to be- to try and be – a better person. To do what should be done, and not necessarily what is easiest. It would be easy for Alistair and I to abandon Loghain and Ferelden to the darkspawn, but instead we're taking on  _all the problems_  in this country  _and_ the Blight."

"It would be cowardly to run away," the elder pointed out. "You are Grey Wardens, your duty is to fight darkspawn and battle Blights when they occur."

"But isn't being a coward easy? Andraste gives me the courage I need to wake in the morning and  _get up_ , instead of curling under my blanket and crying in frustration the way I'd like to, sometimes. My belief gives me strength."

**47.** **Valiant**

Bann Teagan uses words like 'valiant' and 'honorable' when he speaks the day that Redcliffe burns their dead.

Faye looks at the bound and broken body of a little boy, carefully bundled up next to two militia men in one of the rafts being pushed out into the lake, and wishes that perhaps there had been  _less_  bravery in this one battle.


	4. Addition

**41\. Nowhere**

"Did they really have to hide your Prophet's remains in a place unmarked on any map?" grumbles Morrigan, in a particularly foul mood because of the climb up to Haven. According to the parchment map Alistair had purchased in Lothering, it is located in the middle of  _nowhere._

"At least we're almost there," Leliana responds cheerfully.

**37.** **Soliloquy**

It would be easier to believe, but Faye stares at the spirit who looks like Cullen but  _isn't_  and shakes her head. "I won't talk to you – you're not really Cullen. You're just a memory." Admitting it out loud makes her impossibly sad, because  _if only it were really him-_

But talking to this spirit would be a conversation with herself, not an opportunity to make up for past regrets.

Cullen's face, bright and missing the heavily shadowed eyes or lines of stress that he had the last time she saw him in life, nods slowly and fades away. She sees a shimmer of silver that might be an amulet, but it disappears before she can touch it.

**29\. Jewel**

When their exhausted group returns to Redcliffe Castle with the satchel of sacred ashes in tow, Bann Teagan is waiting for them with a lovely blonde woman at his side. She wears simple clothing of fine make, her elegant posture and the single jewel at her neck enough for Faye to identify her as a noble.

Alistair is  _smitten._

"My name is Elissa Cousland, it's a pleasure to meet you," the woman smiles, extending one hand to the flustered, handsome Warden.

He fumbles for a moment before accepting it, a – is that a  _smirk?_ \- spreading over his face. "The  _pleasure_  is all mine," he replies. Behind him, Leliana giggles into her hands.

**22\. Quirks**

"...Cheese. Seriously? Out of all the things we've encountered, your great weakness is  _cheese_?"

Faye gives Alistair an incredulous look even as the fair haired Warden casts his shining gaze on the great wheel of soft yellow cheese that lies buried in the depths of an enchanted icebox in Arl Eamon's pantry. He reverently cuts a thick slice off the block and takes a bite, chewing it with the same expression of uninhibited pleasure that Zevran got when –

She cuts the thought off, grimacing at the unconscious mental connection she'd just made between her innocent brother Warden and decidedly  _un_ -virginal resident assassin. Alistair doesn't seem to notice, since he gives her a barely-closed grin and mumbles around the chunk, "We're all allowed our quirks."

**28\. Jousting**

"You are...coming with us?" Wynne asks in surprise, glancing between Elissa and Alistair with raised eyebrows. Elissa nods, tying her long blonde curls into a neat braid and brushing at an invisible bit of dirt on her freshly-crafted leather armor.

"I was taught to fight alongside Fergus at my own insistence, much to my mother's despair. I won't get in your way, I promise. You need someone who understands politics with you if you're going to Orzammar – someone with a noble's perspective, I mean," she says, in reference to Leliana and Zevran.

The latter gives her clean, flawlessly sharpened blades a look and responds, not unkindly, "You are...very sure of this, dear lady? Battling the darkspawn will not be like jousting with your father's knights." She stubbornly shakes off both his warning and Sten's disapproving glare (" _Another_  one who does not understand their place,") and jogs to catch up with the two Wardens in the front.


	5. Discover

**35.Sarcasm**  
“Do you like anything?” Faye asks Sten one day. “A secret sweet tooth maybe?”

She meant it sarcastically. He pulls out a bag of chocolate chip cookies from his pack.

**21\. Quiet**  
Orzammar is a dreadfully noisy place.

There is no place quiet in the city – the Diamond Quarters are filled with the clanging of great bells and criers, shouting support or slander for the two king candidates. The voices of merchants and the sound of hammers hitting anvils ring through the Commons. Dust Town is filled with weeping and screaming and cold metal on metal. Underneath it all is the soft, unceasing bubbling of lava all around them. The caverns reek of sulphur and dirt and lichen.

Faye holds her staff tightly and tries not to let the others see how poorly she is feeling with the Taint clawing wildly within her, thanks to their new proximity to the darkspawn and the Deep Roads. She knows Alistair feels it too, shadows heavy around his eyes, but on top of that she is dizzy from the faint lure of lyrium. She can feel the stuff, veins of it deep within the stone walls that surround them. When they first enter the dwarven kingdom, it takes all her self control to not light up like a candle at the rush of pure, heady energy.

She closes her eyes and tries to summon memories of the Circle Tower before it was broken, the halls always cool (enchanted, most likely) and quiet except for the soft droning hum of lecturing Enchanters and the occasionally clanging of metal if Templars were nearby. As a child, she had hated the peace and calm of it.

Now she wished only for blessed, blessed silence.

**25\. Quitting**  
“Is it too late to quit?” Faye asks Alistair. Oghren is the only one of the four who entered to emerge from the Deep Roads without any particular injury – Sten was gruffly carrying Zevran, who had near-killed himself between the Broodmother and the battle against Branka, while Leliana and Alistair helped Wynne and Faye along respectively.

Faye was not ashamed to admit that she was making Alistair support almost all of her weight. She didn’t weigh anymore than all his armor, anyways.

“You can’t quit the Grey Wardens,” Alistair chuckled, thinking she was joking. “It’s for life – at least until your Calling comes, and then you come back to the Deep Roads to die while taking out a bunch of darkspawn.”

“Alistair?”

“Yeah?”

“When we have to come back, if anything...if I ask you to kill me while we’re down there, could you do it?” He looked at her askance, but she had a haunted sort of look that made him swallow his initial cheeky answer and nod solemnly after a bit. He hadn’t gotten much out of her, but Oghren had mentioned the Broodmother they met deep in the Roads. The little bit he had heard was enough to make him promise that he would never let his friend become one.

“Thank you,” she said softly, and then let go of his arm to go look on Zevran.

**11\. Birthday**  
“Zev, how old are you?” Faye asks him once, playing with the tip of one pointed ear. His amber eyes are almost golden in the firelight as he lies next to her, facing the stars.

“To be honest, cara, I am not really sure,” the assassin admits. “One cannot expect a whoreson to know his own birthday, after all. Why do you ask?” The mage shrugged lightly and shifted herself close enough to press a kiss to his tattooed cheek.

“You’re more than that, you’re...special,” she chided quietly, unsure of what to call their more-than-friends-but-not-really-lovers relationship. “I just thought I might like to know – but I suppose it’s not really important.”

**23\. Question**  
“What does _kadan_ mean?” Wynne questioned Sten one day. It was soon after they had finally located and retrieved his sword, and Sten sat on the edge of camp carefully tending to the blade. They had long heard him call the Mabari _kadan_ , but since the warhound’s name was Kaiden, most had assumed it a mispronunciation. Now he had taken to calling Faye by the same title.

“It is...” Sten struggled for the proper words. “It is a title we use for ones who are close to the heart. Respected friend, is what I mean when I use it here.” Faye, who was busy feeding Kaiden nearby, looked up with a wry smile.

“I did think that was what it meant, but is it alright for you to call a _bas saarebas_ that?” Sten looked at her in surprise.

“You know the Qunari language. I was not aware of that, you have never mentioned it. Where did you learn it?”

“I don’t,” Faye shook her head. “There wasn’t a lot about the Qunari in the Tower’s library, because you follow the Qun and that’s considered blasphemous, of course – but there was one book about _saarebas_ and _arvaarad_ , which I suspect was only there to emphasis how magnanimous the Chantry was to mages in comparison to the Qunari.” She rolled her eyes while Wynne cringed slightly. “If you ask me, the best place for a mage like me is the Wardens.”

“A mage like you?” asked Zevran, joining them on the edge of camp. The elderly healer answered for her.

“Even as an apprentice, Faye showed a strong affinity for primal magic. She was recruited just after being Harrowed, but if she had stayed they would have trained her into what they call war mages.”

“The Grey Wardens are always in war with darkspawn,” Sten nodded approvingly. “You may not follow the Qun, kadan, but this is a good place for you.”


	6. Resolve

**34\. Serenade**  
Faye had taken Morrigan, Alistair and Kaiden into the Brecilian Forest – not her usual choice, considering neither Warden particularly liked the Wilder Witch, but leaving her mabari near the dog-hostile Dalish didn’t seem wise and Morrigan’s wolf shape seemed like it might be useful. Alistair had refused to be left behind this time, pointing out the disaster of the Deep Roads. (“Clearly, bad things happen whenever we get separated.” “I think things are destined to go wrong no matter what, Alistair.”)

When they returned, Leliana approached them, looking nervous. “Alistair...There’s something you should know.” She spoke in a hushed tone, glancing over to the main Dalish encampment every so often. Elissa was sitting under a tree next to a young, fair-haired Dalish elf with a flustered sort of blush. “His name is Cammen, and I think Elissa’s taken it upon herself to...give him some experience,” Leliana said delicately, wrinkling her nose. “There’s a pretty elven girl around here that he likes but he’s very, ehm, innocent...or was, I suppose? She took him to one of the private areas last week.”

Faye shook her head in exasperation, biting her lip. She knew Elissa didn’t mean any harm – she was a noble’s daughter through and through, who seemed to take sex as a just another way of sharing happiness and pleasure with other people. It was an odd sort of innocence, probably born from the fact that all her previous partners would have made sure to treat her the way a Cousland deserved. Although the elven boy wasn’t her type at all, Faye couldn’t deny that she probably would have offered to give him a ‘lesson’ out of pity herself. The only difference was that she was not...committed. 

Alistair growled and stomped over to his lover, somehow instantly forgetting the weariness that he had worn like a cloak the entire way back. Wynne sighed and looked, for a moment, very much her age. “Teaching someone how to woo a girl used to mean telling them to get flowers and serenade her, not... _this_.”

 **13\. Bias**  
“I could teach you,” Alistair argued, gesturing wildly. “Don’t you remember what happened at Haven? Do you really want to give him another go at you?” Faye groaned and threw her arms into the air in exasperation.

“Alistair, you know I’m not putting down your skills. You’re terrifying in a fight. But you’re a shield warrior and I need to keep one hand free when I fight to cast. You’re also biased because you’re my friend, you’ll be nice. Our enemies won’t be.” She glanced over at the Qunari meditating near her mabari. “Sten is a warrior of the Beresaad; he’s probably trained soldiers before. I don’t have to worry about _him_ going easy on me.”

The almost-Templar grumbled unhappily and watched the nightly training sessions with hawk eyes anyways.

 **24\. Quarrel**  
The group was in Denerim, gathering supplies and information (officially) and taking a much needed break. Elissa had taken Alistair by the hand and disappeared into the marketplace giggling, in a pleasant mood after her encounter with Habren. (The silly girl hadn’t recognized the Cousland heiress and spoken quite rudely to her – in retaliation Elissa swiped her purse and used the gold to completely restore their healing kits.)

Meanwhile, Faye, Zevran and Leliana had gone after a job at the Pearl to deal with the mercenaries that were harassing the customers. The bard had returned to the inn with cheeks as red as her hair and slightly glowing, mentioning an old acquaintance of Zevran’s that they had met and gotten to know quite well. The other two returned even later, slightly ruffled and with the same infernal smile. Morrigan was waiting, a mocking scowl on her face.

“So much for your great faith,” she scoffed, looking at Faye. The Warden mage gave her a cool look.

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“Does your Chantry not preach chastity?”

Faye turned white, eyes narrowed and fists clenched tightly. Leliana easily stepped in between them, holding up her hands. “Don’t fight,” she pleaded. “Morrigan, Faye is not-“

“And this is coming from the bard,” the Witch said sharply, tossing her head back. “I'm to trust your judgment on this?”

“Frigid bitch,” Faye snarled suddenly, taking Leliana’s hand and pulling her away. “You needn’t act so superior just because I’m happy to use my body. It’s not as if I can even have child-“ she cut herself off and whirled away, dragging the archer with her.

Later that night, the others saw Faye approach Morrigan with a golden mirror in hand. All was well the next day – and nobody mentioned that particular quarrel again.

 **39\. Share**  
Marjolaine’s house is plain and nondescript, located just a bit away from the Denerim Chantry. Leliana looks at it with fear, and glances at the statue of Andraste behind them, glittering in the sunlight.

Her hands shake too hard to give a proper knock, so Alistair does it instead, the heavy silverite gauntlets hitting the door with a steady ‘thump’. Nobody answers of course, so they knock the whole thing down.

“Such rudeness,” the dark haired woman in rich violet clothes chides. Faye winces – to date, Leliana is the only person she’d met whose Orlesian accent was pleasant to the ear. The redhead steps forward, defiance flashing in her eyes as she faces the greatest betrayer of her life. Faye squeezes her hand for a split second and gives her a nod before stepping back as the two bards begin to talk– this is Leliana’s fight, not hers, but she would share her friend’s burden if she could.

 **5\. Worry**  
When their motley group was ambushed by Taliesen in the back alleys of Denerim, Faye couldn’t help the streak of worry that flashed through her mind. She and Zevran were close, of course- but they weren’t in love and his old friend was promising him a seamless return to life in a country she knew he missed. She wouldn’t even blame him if he left, not really.

(That wasn’t entirely true. She’d probably blame him a lot.)

When the elven assassin denied Taliesen, she breathed a sigh of relief and leapt into the fray with Starfang glimmering in her hand. In the aftermath he gave her a leering smile and teased, “You didn’t think I would leave, did you? Where would you be without me to watch your backside?”

Faye laughed, and didn’t say out loud what they probably both knew.

 **30\. Just**  
Elissa takes the killing blow.

Faye takes the responsibility – blame from some, an achievement to others.

She tells herself it doesn’t matter that he fell at dagger point, not to magic. Rendon Howe is dead, and that is just. That is all that matters.


	7. Chapter 7

**9\. War**  
They are just barely old enough to not be children anymore, and Loghain smiles coldly when they enter the Landsmeet. There is Maric’s bastard, a pretty little redhead with a bow strapped to her back, and a fully armed elf that – isn’t that the assassin Howe hired all those months ago?

Leading them all is the Warden, the shivering raven-haired mage he vaguely remembers standing in Duncan’s shadow at Ostagar. She stands tall now, her posture confident and sure. There is a sword adorned in glowing, lyrium-blue lines at her hip.

When it comes down to a duel, she reaches for it as if she knows how to use it, and much to his surprise she does. He kneels to her in surrender and closes his eyes, his only regrets for Anora and the Warden who seems too young to be fighting a war.

Still, he knows she’ll win.

**49\. Victory**  
So here it was: the price of victory.

Faye returned to her room numbly, mind wandering. Death to whichever one of them – Riordan or Alistair or her – killed the Archdemon. The Senior Warden had promised to take the blow, but she could feel the Taint rising and curdling within him – he was close to his Calling already, and she had some doubt of his surviving the battle even without the Archdemon involved. No, it was quite likely to come down to her or Alistair.

And Alistair was the bloody king.

When Morrigan came with her offer, Faye held up a hand and told the witch, “Don’t explain it to me. I don’t want to know. Just tell me if anyone will be hurt, and what I have to do.”

She told herself as she walked down the hall to Alistair’s room that she was doing this to make sure Ferelden could not lose its newly-elected King so soon. She was making sure that Alistair and Elissa could stay together after the Blight. Her hands shook. Her body knew she was lying.

During the Blight, Faye had rarely let herself be selfish- but the taste of freedom was as addictive as lyrium. She swore that this would be the last time.

**50\. Defeat**  
They return to Denerim. The sky is grey, with tendrils of crimson rising over the horizon. The capital burns.

King Alistair (that still doesn’t sound right at all) gives a speech to the soldiers that has them raising their arms and cheering. Faye shoots him a look at his repeated use of ‘this woman’ – she has a name – and walks off the steps of their makeshift stage with him.

She and Alistair make their way to their motley group of companions, the people who have followed them back and forth across the entire country, to the depths of Orzammar, to the heights of the Gauntlet, and even through the twisted maze of politics. “It ends today,” Sten rumbled, heaving Asala in one hand. Looking especially lithe and diminutive beside him, Leliana nodded grimly and checked her bowstring.

Faye hugs Zevran hard and inhales, absorbing the scent of spices and warmth that always seems to cling to him, and reminds herself that they are fighting to see another sunrise. Today, defeat is not an option.

**26\. Jump**  
They watch the figure, a dark silhouette against the faint red light in the sky, jump.

Morrigan sneers. “He’s a fool, trying to attack the Archdemon that way - “ the creature roars, and crashes onto the roof of Fort Drakon. Faye doesn’t see it, but somehow knows that Riordan is dead. She swallows and folds up the memory of the man who called her sister upon their first meeting; to file it away for safekeeping.

**15\. Breathing**  
“Don’t you _dare_ die on us,” came a rough voice from somewhere above. “Not after everything we’ve done, you are not going to die here!”

“ _Cara._ Come now, don’t fall asleep -“

“Oh Maker, she’s not – oh please, please- “

Faye groaned softly and came to for a scant few seconds, eyes half-opening to reveal the blurry faces of her companions. She reached for Alistair blindly and clutched the calloused hand he offered like a lifeline. “Did we...win?” she asked faintly.

“We won. You killed the archdemon, the Blight is over, we won,” Alistair assured her, moving so that Zevran could pick her up with gentle, steady arms. “...Zevran’s going to take you to Wynne now, alright? You’re going to be okay.” He tried to ignore the red soaking through the cloth Leliana had pressed against the back of her head wound – they’d found her on the edge of the roof, tossed back from the explosion and bleeding across the stone.

“...Kay,” she murmured back childishly, wrapping her arms loosely around the elf’s neck and pressing her face against his collarbone. “Zev...’m so tired.”

“I know,” he said softly, petting her hair with one hand, carefully avoiding the bandage. “You have to stay awake though. You did so well today. Just a little longer, Faye.” _Keep breathing_ , he pleaded silently.


	8. Causatum

**48\. Virtuous**  
Sometime between the end of the Blight and the royal wedding, Alistair asks Faye if she had ever thought of them as a couple.

She laughs, still lying in bed under Wynne's orders, and tells him, “You’re too good for me, Alistair.” He thinks it’s joking flattery, but she means it more than he knows. She’s a mage, and there’s nothing virtuous about her.

(“ _How far they must have delved into my thoughts, tempting me with the one thing I always wanted but could never have!_ ”) No, she is sin – and she has hurt enough people.

 **10\. Weddings**  
Elissa is ravishingly beautiful, wrapped head to toe in yards of the finest silk and Orlesian lace that they could get their hands on. Leliana has twisted tiny braids into her blonde hair to hold the delicate blossoms of Andraste’s Grace, and Faye stands behind her to do the clasp on the jeweled necklace that hangs around her neck.

She has seen Elissa dressed as the noblewoman she is before though, and so it is not until Faye walks down the aisle as the couple’s Maid of Honor that she is truly surprised. Alistair looks every inch the royal, barely recognizable in his finery and the sheer joy that suffuses over his face when Elissa makes her appearance at the door of the Chantry.

Faye watches her brother and friend get married, and forgets for a moment that such a wedding – any wedding – will never be hers.

 **2\. Waltz**  
“Alistair, I can’t dance,” Faye hissed to him as he led her into the center of the hall. The lights above glittered so bright and golden that they hurt her eyes, and she gripped the hands of Ferelden’s newly crowned king as anxious dizziness washed over her.

“Don’t worry, Elissa taught me earlier. Waltzing isn’t so bad,” he grinned down at her, bemused at finally discovering the one thing their fearless leader couldn’t do.

 **19\. Balcony**  
“You should reconsider sleeping in a room with a balcony,” came an accented voice from Faye’s window. The mage had already leapt from her bed, lightning flaring from her fingertips and lighting up the dark bedroom. When she saw the face illuminated by her magic, she groaned in relief and pulled the it back within herself, allowing Zevran to climb in – which he did, with all the grace and agility of a cat.

“You should reconsider sneaking into people’s rooms at night,” she retorted, sitting down on the bed – oh, the bed! She hadn’t slept in a proper one in well...months, and of course the palace of Ferelden’s King and Queen had the absolute loveliest pillows she’d ever felt. She clutched one to herself now, looking at Zevran. “You really couldn’t use the door, Zev?”

“But where would be the romance in that?” he said, with a mock-sad shake of his head.

“We – I don’t need romance, Zev,” Faye said carefully, shifting slightly. She’d been waiting on this conversation for days – now that the Blight was over, she’d been unsure what Zevran expected from their...Andraste’s mercy, it had been eight months and she still hadn’t found a name for it.

“But you deserve it,” he said quietly, coming to sit down next to her. She automatically curled up against him to absorb his body heat – he was always warm, as if he carried a bit of Antiva’s sun beneath his skin even in cold, wet Ferelden. “Now that your duties are over, you are free to pursue a lover of your choice and be with him any way you wish. There is no more need for our...arrangement,” Zevran pronounced delicately. She stiffened.

“You’re my best friend. Who understands that sex and love aren’t always related,” She shrugged. “The Tower is no more conducive to romance than a whorehouse or the Crows, Zev. I mean, obviously, it’s not – nothing like what you went through. But I’m a mage. Mages can’t marry, and any child we have automatically belongs to the Chantry. I can’t even have children most likely, because of being a Warden.” She shook her head. “No, I don’t want... I like the way things have always been between us. But, if this isn’t enough for you, I’d understand.”

The blonde shushed her softly and wrapped a tanned, leanly muscled arm around her shoulders. “If you would like things to stay the same, then they will. I cannot promise to stay with you always, but I will be here when you need me. Do not worry, Faye.” He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead and sat with her in peaceful silence until the sun rose.


	9. Forsaken

**27\. Jester**  
“I don’t suppose you could hire a Court Jester,” Faye mused out loud, lounging in a chair in the kitchens. The king sitting across from her, carefully slicing a large block of cheese brought as a gift from the Orlesian ambassador, smiled at the thought.

“Arl Eamon would have my head – but I know what you mean. This whole royalty business is rather dull.”

Faye scoffed and swiped a sliver of yellow off the edge of his plate, cheerfully ignoring Alistair’s semi-offended “Hey!”

“Dull,” she said after chewing, “Is an understatement. Sitting in the chapel for punishment was dull. This is more like I’d-rather-go-kill-darkspawn.”

“You’re just bored because Zevran finally left for Antiva,” Alistair pointed out, huddling protectively over the remaining chunk.

Faye disguised her wince at the name with a wry smile. “Say what you might, at least we were never as loud as you and Elissa.”

**42\. Night**  
Denerim is another city altogether after eight – the bustling capital of Ferelden turns into a town of ghosts and shadows; thieves crawling along brick-walled alleys in search of the unwary.

She used to walk down the middle of the streets, equipped with her usual mishmash of armor and Starfang. None of them dared to touch her, not even to approach.

Now, she joins the lurkers, holding her cloak closed, pulling her hood up to protect her hair from the glint of moonlight. Zevran did it better, but he’s gone now, and she’s tired of being the Hero. ‘There are no real heroes,’ she wants to tell them all, wants to rip off the badge of courage she was gifted by the Throne to toss it into the crowd.

Instead, Faye imitates her – the capricious assassin that she once knew. She wants to blend, wants to melt away into nothingness, wants to never hear another word about slaying the Archdemon. It’s not entirely possible, but she tries.

The sun ( _her sun)_ is nowhere to be found. It is night.

**46\. Horizon**  
“You’re kidding.”

“Not at all,” Alistair grinned, leaning forward in his chair. By all rights, he should be doing this in the throne room, but he’d had a feeling that Faye would want to argue about it first. “You made me king, so now I get to return the favor and stick two titles on you.”

“You can’t just – Alright, Warden Commander maybe, but I’m a mage, mages can’t hold titles-“

“You know, you use ‘I’m a mage’ as a reason for lots of things,” the king mused out loud. His wife would call it a tactless comment, but he would save what little he had for the nobles in the Landsmeet. Best friends and sisters got blunt honesty. “Face it Faye, what else can I do with it? Elissa and Fergus agreed to letting the Wardens have Amaranthine, so it only makes sense that the Warden Commander double as the Arlessa. The arling’s a mess after Howe, and there’s nobody better at forcing people to get up and work than you.”

“...I’m not even sure if that was a compliment or if you’re calling me bossy,” the mage sighed, roughly pushing her hair out of her face. “You know the Grand Cleric will be spitting flames at this, right? She’s unhappy enough about all the Hero of Ferelden nonsense – thinks it’s heretical for people to look up to any mage.”

“Yeah, well the Grand Cleric also once assigned me to pot scrubbing duty for six months. I don’t care much about her happiness, thanks,” he sniffed, trying not to laugh. “Is that as a yes, then?”

“Fine, yes,” Faye threw up her hands. “Don’t blame me if this all goes wrong though, I’ll just say I told you so!” She turned to leave Alistair’s office, ducking her head to hide her growing smile. She’d never admit it, but the prospect of a new horizon – a new adventure – was undeniably appealing. Maker, she was sick of Denerim.


	10. Awakening

**38\. Sojourn**  
“Four Wardens to bring you in, hm?” Nathaniel’s head shot up, eyes blazing at the woman in the doorway of his cell. Here was his father’s killer, at last.

“If it isn't the great hero, my father's murderer,” he sneered. “Aren’t you supposed to be ten feet tall? With lightning bolts shooting out of your eyes?” The Warden Commander’s eyes narrowed as she stepped further in, abruptly summoning a spatter of violent sparks to her hand.

“I don’t know about ten feet tall, but I can manage a little lightning,” she retorted coldly. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re here for?”

“This is my family’s home; I have more of a right to be here than you do! Arl Rendon Howe was my father-“ Faye cut him off abruptly, quickly studying him again.

“You are...Nathaniel Howe then? Elissa warned me that you might return someday. I’m afraid you’re wrong on more than one point then. The one to land the killing blow on your father was her Highness, not me. She wanted it – deserved it, after what he did to her family.”

The archer went pale.“Lissy...Lissy killed Father? That can’t – you’re lying,” he hissed. “Every person I’ve met since returning from the Free Marches has told me that they were glad the Hero had killed him!”

Faye rolled her eyes, absently beckoning to the guards. “Yes, because people would be _so_ happy to learn their Queen murdered an Arl. They like the idea of a warrior Queen, but they don’t want to think about the killing part. I told Alistair to tell everyone that it was me.” A man in splintmail came to unlock Nathaniel from his cell. “Come then. I’ll get you your family’s things – that’s what you’re here for, yes? – and then you can leave. I think we’d all prefer if this isn’t a permanent stay.”

Nathaniel doesn’t listen of course, but she’ll never let anyone accuse her of not giving him the choice - the one she never had.

 **31.Smirk**  
Oghren has never been a close friend, but Faye doesn’t want him to die either. She watches the red haired dwarf knock back the Joining cup, and wonders what she should tell Felsi if he falls to the ground, choking on his own blood and bile like Daveth did –

There is a long pause, and then he belches and smirks. “That’s it? Got anymore, Warden? – or Commander, I guess, since I’m a soddin’ Warden now too.”

 **8\. Whiskey and rum**  
When Faye admitted that she hadn’t ever drank properly (“What? I went to the Tower when I was ten and didn’t leave until I was twenty, and then I was a little too busy fighting the Blight to go visit a tavern. I travelled with Oghren, remember? He didn’t exactly make it look too appealing.”) Nathaniel deemed it necessary to unlock his family’s old storage room in the basement.

Anders selected a bottle or two of whiskey and some rum that looked promising while Sigrun marveled at the taste of alcohol that wasn’t brewed with dirt and lichen. By dawn, all three agreed that for the sake of their collective dignity, nobody would allow the Commander near alcohol ever again.

 **7\. Waste/Wasteland**  
“You’re admiring the damn thing, aren’t you?” Anders exclaimed, even as he ran through the trees with her. The Queen of the Blackmarsh was chasing after them, armed with lightning-charged breath and a wingspan that probably equaled several rooms at the Keep. “We’re running through a blasted wasteland with a spectral dragon after us, and you’re admiring it!”

Faye spat out a globule of blood that had swelled up inside her mouth and picked up the pace, hoping Nathaniel figured out how to kill this thing soon. “Shut up Anders, I’m still your Commander. I’m allowed to think things are pretty once in awhile!”

“Yeah, but this pretty thing wants to _eat us_!”

 **18\. Balloon**  
“What was that?” asked Sigrun curiously, following the Warden Commander, Anders, and Nathaniel through Amaranthine. They were in the city for a rare day of rest and relaxation – Bann Delilah Howe’s son had been born quite recently, and the four had gone to pay their respects. Faye and Anders had poured their knowledge of magic together to create a pair of bracelets that would keep mother and son protected from basic attacks and allow Delilah to know where her baby was at all times.

When young Thomas had woken up crying, Faye had calmed the crying boy with a whisper that left five colorful balls of light dancing above his crib.

“You’ve never seen a balloon?” asked Anders, surprised. “Well – no, never mind, you’re a dwarf, right. No mages and all.” Faye laughed and pulled another one from nowhere in a happy yellow color and floated it towards their dwarven companion.

“I’m not sure who started them, but you see them in the Tower quite often. They’re pretty enough, and they calm the little ones during their first few days – gives them a distraction until they’re used to everything. Sometimes the apprentices learn to make them just to play with them.”

“I’d forgotten that. We used to annoy the Templar trainees with them, didn’t we? Those were good days...” Anders grinned in reminiscence. Nathaniel observed the two with a careful smile. The two mages refused to speak much of the Tower in front of the others. It was good to know that even they had such pieces of happiness in their past.

 **20\. Bane**  
A vial of thick, dark orange liquid passed to Anders’ hand.

“Faye,” he said softly, eyes so wide that she almost wondered if it hurt. He was too shocked to even use her proper title – or the many teasing variations of it that he had come up with. “Is this-?”

“It’s Concentrated Soldier’s Bane,” she nodded grimly. “I had some made by a discreet man in Amaranthine, he didn’t ask what I wanted it for.” The female mage sighed and looked up at the sky, as blue as Anders’ eyes- which she wanted to see again, _alive_ , Maker damn her. “I know Irving’s the one who requested you for the lecture, but I’m sure there will be plenty of Templars who might try and take advantage of your presence at the Tower. This should give you an advantage, though I pray you won’t need it. There’s also a letter in your satchel from me emphasizing the whole ‘Anders is a Grey Warden and King Alistair approved of his conscription and there will be lots of unhappy people if you kill him’ bit -”

Faye was cut off as Anders enthusiastically tackle-hugged the Warden Commander, much like his pet kitten had a habit of doing. “I knew I’d get you to fall for my charms someday,” he teased. “You’re worried for me!” She rolled her eyes and pushed him away.

“Dream on, _sweetheart_. Have a safe trip, alright? We’ll come check on you if you’re not back in two months, they can’t need you to lecture for that long.” He nodded with a grin and headed for the horses, where Justice – his escort, at least as far as Lake Calenhad – was already saddling a large grey stallion.

Faye laughed and turned away, heading back into the recently-mended Keep with light thoughts. It never occurred to her that that would be the last time she would see Anders for several years.


End file.
